Attention
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: A hot summer's day and a challenge from Herr Detweiler leave Maria unexpectedly flustered. Pure fluff, just a bit of fun!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: total fluff, because I felt like writing something fun again. No M rating for once but lots of forbidden attraction. Will probably only be one or two more updates. As always, I love review!**

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The scene could only be described as blissful to anyone who happened to stumble upon it. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, birds were chirping from their branched hiding places, the breeze continued to move through the trees like a restless sea, and the lake sat like a sheet of glass reflecting the majestic mountains that loomed over it. Just shy of becoming stifling, the heat of the day seeped into the nooks and crannies of the garden, spilling forth onto the veranda and bathing its aristocratic occupants in a blanket of warmth.

Normally, Georg von Trapp would've been tugging on his collar impatiently by now, in pursuit of some relief from the noose of a tie that was knotted tightly around his neck. Despite suffering long, sweltering days under the sun on the occasions that he and his crew had broken the surface of the Adriatic during the war, he'd never quite grown to love the heat - especially not while adorned in a blasted suit and tie. Indeed, most of his rare days above the sea's surface had been spent shirtless, soaking up what little daylight they'd been able to enjoy. Strangely enough however, it wasn't the _sun_ that was leaving him restless on this particular summer's afternoon - but rather, the uncharacteristically peaceful silence...

Where on earth was the little fraulein and her boisterous charges, he wondered. Surely they weren't indoors on such a glorious afternoon? He knew Fraulein Maria well enough by now to know that she chose to be outdoors whenever she got the chance - even, on occasion, when it was raining! - as he had discovered not one week ago. The memory suddenly rose unbidden in his mind - he'd been poring over some work in his study, when suddenly he'd spotting her through the window, catching her in what she must've thought was a private moment. She'd been twirling in a circle with her arms spread, laughing heartily as clouds thatched the sky and the heavens unexpectedly opened - and within a few seconds she'd been absolutely soaked to the skin. Much to his chagrin, he hadn't been able to look away...

There was a time not too long ago - before the Fraulein's somewhat disruptive arrival, in fact - when he would've positively relished in the current silence. Now however, the quietude was simply unsettling. He was _restless_ \- and while he didn't like to admit it to himself, he couldn't deny that in his idle boredom he was rather craving Fraulein Maria's undivided-

"ATTENNNNNTION!"

It was Friedrich who pierced the solitude, sending birds scattering from the trees as he sprang from behind a bush with a roar and a hearty salute. Almost immediately, the rest of the children erupted from various hiding places around the garden and lined up enthusiastically like a troop of soldiers, posing in an odd variety of stances. Among the little platoon, was a rosy-faced Fraulein Maria.

 _Ah,_ Georg thought with a knowing chuckle _, that's more like it!_

"Good heavens!" Elsa exclaimed from somewhere beside him, her perfectly manicured hand flying to her heart in alarm, though she still managed to look as regal and elegant as ever, even in the relentless heat.

Max Detweiler guffawed impishly on Georg's other side, "The countryside is so _restful_ isn't it!"

Elsa raised an unamused eyebrow but Georg hardly noticed, instead focusing his efforts on trying to work out the rules of this bizarre military game his children seemed so thoroughly engrossed in. It was no doubt a product of the fraulein's vivid and varied imagination - not unlike the puppet show, or the blasted play clothes made of old drapes, he mused. In any event, she never seemed to run out of new activities to keep the children entertained. And while most of her games were simple to decipher, _this_ particular game was leaving him baffled. But before he had the chance to scrutinise it any further, Frau Schmidt arrived with ice cold refreshments, momentarily distracting his brood's attention.

"Lemonade!" A little voice yelled from the grass, and within seconds the table was surrounded by seven eager faces, their game apparently forgotten for the time being.

Maria took the chance to catch her breath as she watched the children scamper in the direction of the lemonade, shaking her head with a fond smile at the way they were so easily influenced by the promise of a sugar. She could hardly blame them though - it was a gloriously sunny day and their game _had_ been rather taxing.

"Fraulein!" Liesl called from the balustrade, beckoning with her ice cool glass, "come and try some! It's delightful."

With a shrug, Maria followed up the stone steps just in time to hear Herr Detweiler ask of the second eldest Von Trapp child, "What was that all about Friedrich?"

"It's a game," The boy replied breathlessly, pausing to gulp enthusiastically at his drink, "a mix of hide and seek and musical statues. When I yell _attention_ , everyone must run from their hiding place and adopt their assigned military stances. The first to move or stumble is it! And so the game continues."

Whether he meant for her to see or not, Maria caught the captain rolling his eyes in warm amusement - and she couldn't help but rise to the bait.

"I thought you of all people would approve captain!"

A peculiar fluttering danced low in her stomach when his eyes suddenly locked with hers, humour shining in them - though the rigid authoritarian still lurked behind his gaze.

"Me?" He enquired innocently.

She nodded.

"I don't understand."

"Military fitness!" She explained, attempting to hide her mirth, "I took creative license with your.. what did you call it? Ah yes - _marching about the grounds, breathing deeply_."

Much to her delight, the captain chuckled darkly and she could read his response in the look he cast her.

 _Touché fraulein, touché!_

"I hate to tell you fraulein," Herr Detweiler interrupted with an air of superior understanding, "but that was not _military fitness_ , as you so graciously put it."

The captain scoffed non-too-quietly into his lemonade and Maria had to stifle a giggle.

"Max, you wouldn't recognise a fitness regimen if it came up and bit you on the backside!"

A titter of stifled sniggering broke out amongst the children and Maria managed to shush them while failing hopelessly in keeping her own face straight.

Herr Detweiler looked thoroughly affronted.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" He protested, outraged, "I'm fit as a fiddle!"

A dangerous set of mischievous dimples framed the corners of the Captain's mouth as it shaped itself into a perfectly crooked smile - and much to Maria's dismay, she felt her face flush hotly. Luckily it was uncle Max who was on the receiving end of such an unsettling look - if it'd been _her_ , she would surely have had to avert her eyes to keep from embarrassing herself. Her employer's angry glare, she could handle without so much as flinching. His temper, she could match with equal vigour. But his teasing? His smile? Or even worse, his _kindness_? They left her completely and utterly flustered every time. Of course, she would never admit it to a single soul - not even to herself! - but when Captain Von Trapp was like this - playful, mischievous, _mysterious_ \- she couldn't deny he was rather devastating.

"Well let's just say," the captain goaded Herr Detweiler, leaning forward in his chair, "A little birdie told me you need your tuxedo altering before the party! One too many strudels I dare say, Max!"

And with that he flopped back in his seat nonchalantly, chuckling darkly at the scandalised look on his friend's face as the impresario rounded accusatorially on the baroness.

"That was supposed to be a _secret_!" He hissed sulkily at his elegant companion as the children doubled over in another fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry darling, really I am!" The baroness tittered gracefully, in a manner that made Maria suspect she wasn't really sorry at all, "But I'm no match for Georg and his skills in the art of extraction! He had it out of me before I'd even opened my mouth!"

Now _that_ Maria could well believe. She'd lost count of the number of times the captain had needled the truth out of her without so much as a single word. Sometimes she wondered whether he could simply read her thoughts - but the very idea was too disturbing to even contemplate.

"How I _despise_ idle gossip," Herr Detweiler grumbled petulantly, "I'm as fit as I was in my navy days!"

"So not very fit at all then," the captain retorted with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you care to bet on it?"

"What did you have in mind exactly?"

Maria watched the two men sparing with avid interest. It seemed that even the baroness was somewhat amused by the exchange, smirking into her glass of lemonade as her eyes flitted between the two.

"I wager I can still complete that blasted exercise drill you used to put us through on the docks right before a mission!" The impresario declared, much to the delight of Kurt and Friedrich.

"What drill father?"

"Show us!"

"I bet we could do it!"

" _You_ couldn't.."

"Yes I could!"

The captain interrupted his sons with a hearty laugh then, clearly pleased with their enthusiasm, "Boys, as much as I'd love to put your uncle Max through his paces, I believe your fraulein confiscated my trusty whistle. And every naval officer knows you can't direct a drill without a _whistle_."

He punctuated the final word with a gentle tap to Marta's nose, causing the little girl to giggle happily by his side. Content to put the topic to bed, Georg reached for his glass of lemonade again, ready to change the subject altogether, when-

"Actually captain," the little fraulein made him pause with his drink halfway to his lips, "I've got the whistle you gave me right here," and she reached into the pocket of her dress before thrusting said whistle at him with what would've been considered a guileless smile, if it wasn't for the mischief he caught in her eyes. The last time she'd fixed him with a look like that he'd found himself taking a guitar from her outstretched hands. The realisation was oddly unsettling.

"It's come quite in handy for some of the games we've been playing, you see."

He said nothing, merely chuckling hesitantly as his eyes flickered to the blasted whistle clutched in her dainty fingers. As always, she'd somehow managed to outsmart him, putting him on the spot with the very instrument that he'd once used to exert his authority. The irony wasn't lost on him.

" _Please_ father, show us what you and uncle Max used to do in the navy," Kurt implored - and for some reason that Maria couldn't quite fathom, the baroness almost began choking on her lemonade.

"Er... perhaps not _everything_. eh Georg?" Herr Detweiler mused, flashing Elsa a wink.

"Yes, _thank you_ Max!" The captain barked and Maria could've sworn she saw his ears redden as his eyes flickered for a split second onto her.

"Please father, it'll be fun!" It was Louisa asking this time - and even her slightly more gentile sisters agreed with irrefutable enthusiasm.

Georg looked to Max and Elsa for help, but of course they offered him none - the former looking fiendishly smug at the unexpected turn of events, while the latter simply watched him curiously through mascaraed lashes.

He turned back to his brood, and their gazes shone with expectant excitement.

"Oh _alright_ ," he eventually conceded, "if you insist on making your uncle Max suffer this badly then who am I to stop you!"

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 **A/N: I'm quite excited to write the next chapter, could be lots of fun!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: so sorry for the delay, I've been gallivanting around the Adriatic on holiday for the past ten days but I'm back now! Thanks so much for the reviews so far.**

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Half an hour later, the children were gathered in a circle, sitting on the grass and fidgeting impatiently under the afternoon sun as they waited for the spectacle that would soon begin. Kurt plucked handfuls of grass absentmindedly from the lawn beneath his fingers and Friedrich attempted an enthusiastic sit-up, much to the amusement of his brothers and sisters.

"Do you think father will let us join in Fraulein?" The boy asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure Friedrich, I suppose it depends on just how strenuous a task he plans to set for your uncle Max!"

"I bet it'll kill him!" Kurt grinned dramatically while his brother simply rolled his eyes.

"I think I'll be content to simply watch," Brigitta chimed in matter-of-factly, to the agreement of the rest of the girls.

"You don't fancy challenging your brothers, Louisa?" Maria asked the tomboy, knowing all too well that she'd inherited a particularly fierce competitive streak. But the girl only screwed her nose up in distaste.

"I prefer hunting for creepy-crawlies," she retorted with a wicked glint in her eye that reminded Maria all too much of the children's father.

"You can go sit quietly with the _boring_ baroness then," Kurt sneered, "unless she's going to take part in father's drill too?"

They all turned toward the veranda then, catching sight of an effortlessly graceful baroness Shraeder pointing her face to the sun, eyes closed in blissful contentment, a cigarette clutched elegantly between her slender fingers. She looked as though she'd never had so much as a single crease line her perfect clothing since the day she was born.

"Somehow, I think _not_ ," Liesl giggled, and they all burst into raucous laughter - loudly enough in fact, to shock the baroness out of her peaceful reverie. The woman startled in her seat, her eyes snapping open as she fixed them all with a look that made it clear she'd only just remembered they were there.

"Be nice, children!" Maria hissed under her breath, and reluctantly her charges fixed their future mother with a forced smile and a stiff wave. The baroness was clearly perplexed by their behaviour, but recovered quickly, offering them an elegant - though clearly feigned - upturn of the mouth before returning to her cigarette.

"What's taking so long!" Marta whined, clearly excited by the prospect of seeing her father and uncle in action.

"I dare say uncle Max is trying to find some exercise clothes that actually fit!" Brigitta quipped mirthfully - but she was interrupted by her eldest brother as he turned to the house and gawped openly at something that had caught his eye.

"Um.. " Friedrich pointed in stunned disbelief, "I'm not sure he's quite succeeded.."

The rest of the group followed Friedrich's pointing finger, and Maria gave a scandalised moan at the sight that greeted them. There on the veranda, looking immensely proud of himself and making a show of stretching dramatically in front of a thoroughly amused baroness, was Herr Detweiler. Adorned in a plain white t-shirt tucked into a pair of tiny navy blue shorts that looked as though they'd be a far better fit for Kurt, Maria had to conclude that the man looked utterly ridiculous. Completing the bizarre ensemble was a pair of white socks that pooled hopelessly at his ankles and a battered pair of running pumps that Maria wagered he'd found at the bottom of the garden shed somewhere.

"Good _grief_!" Liesl choked in apparent horror.

 _My thoughts exactly_ , Maria agreed silently while trying to keep a straight face. She couldn't remember the last time - if ever! - she'd seen a man so informally attired. The only relief for her innocent eyes was that the t-shirt at least covered the impresario's shoulders - but it was poor compensation for the rest of the ludicrous outfit. Spindly legs and knobbly knees made for a positively comical sight and it appeared she wasn't the only one who thought so - the children were practically going beetroot with the effort of holding in their laughter.

"Wherever did you find such a _ghastly_ ensemble!" The baroness declared in mock horror as Maria and her charges moved closer.

"I'll have you know that this is the height of fashion amongst the athletes of our fine country!" Herr Detweiler insisted haughtily, swinging his arms in a semi-circle from side to side before stretching down with a groan in a failed attempt to touch his toes, "the shorts aren't mine however. Frau Schmidt was kind enough to lend me a pair belonging to her son."

"And I dare say the poor boy will never want them back!" a deep, masculine voice drawled from the doorway behind them.

All eyes landed on captain Von Trapp, leaning effortlessly against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk plastered on his face. The lowness of the afternoon sun caught his hair just so, and it was the first time Maria noticed the dark locks were actually tinted with undertones of chestnut in certain places. He made for a handsome picture, she had to admit - clearly up to no good, long legs stretched out in front of him as he leant against the door - and for a terrifying moment the image of Herr Detweiler's minuscule shorts floated to the forefront of Maria's mind. Luckily for her sanity though, the captain himself was still impeccably dressed in the same fine suit he'd had on all day. And yet, despite herself, she felt the most bizarre pang of.. disappointment?

"Why aren't you dressed!" Herr Detweiler challenged.

With feigned confusion, the captain looked down at himself, "The last time I checked Max, I still had all my clothes on.."

 _Thank God,_ Maria thought.

"You know what I mean!" Herr Detweiler retorted impatiently, "why aren't you dressed _appropriately_?"

"I agreed to put you through your paces. I never said I'd join in."

"That's not fair!" The impresario protested, "I thought we agreed that you-"

But before he could finish his sentence, the children's uncle was cut off by a shrill, high-pitched blast as the captain held his recently returned boatswain whistle to his lips, startling everyone within a fifty mile radius. Birds scattered in every direction from the trees and the baroness dropped her cigarette with an indignant shriek.

" _Urgh_!" Louisa grimaced sourly, pressing her hands over her ears, "I prayed I'd never hear that noise again!"

"Ten push ups for your backchat sailor!" The captain boomed at a stricken Herr Detweiler.

"But-"

"Do you want to make it twenty?!"

Without further argument, Uncle Max sprang to action, scrambling down the veranda steps with surprising speed before dropping to the grass in a set of effortless push-ups. Maria was equal parts impressed by his stamina and surprised to see such a defiant man obeying his friend's command without question - but of course, the captain and his subordinate were in military mode now, she realised. Her employer had explained to her once - during one of their more stirring conversations - the unwavering importance of a commanding officer's whistle. Once that instrument was blown, he'd told her, orders were followed without question - which often meant the difference between life and death. She wagered _that_ was why he'd turned to the instrument as a source of control after his wife had passed. And indeed, Maria could see the full effect of the whistle's authority now, for while it had never worked on her, Herr Detweiler seemed to have discovered a new energy in its shrill call, responding effortlessly even when the captain demanded another ten push ups from him.

As for the captain himself, Maria realised that she recognised this side of him all too well. He was the intimating employer she'd met on her very first day at the villa - stern, commanding, authoritative, larger than life. Only this time, he was using such traits to entertain his children, rather than frighten them - she could tell by the wicked gleam in his eye as he put his friend through his paces. And as she watched her charges fall about laughing at their uncle's expense, she felt a tug of pure affection for the man who'd once furiously banished her from his ballroom. How things had changed.

Twenty-five push ups later and the captain must've taken pity on his cadet, because he put an abrupt stop to the torture with another sharp blast of his whistle.

"On your feet," he commanded firmly, and Herr Detweiler rose from the ground, breathing hard but otherwise quite unperturbed.

"You're going to have to do better than that Georg!" The impresario guffawed smugly, hands on hips, "you're turning soft in your old age."

The captain barely flinched before delivering his blow, "that was simply the _warm up_ , Max."

Herr Detweiler's face fell instantly, much to the fiendish delight of the children who watched their father and uncle with open fascination.

"Right!" The captain clapped his hands together suddenly and turned to the children, his face breaking into a devilish smile, "my little cadets, do we have any other takers?"

Immediately Kurt and Friedrich's hands shot into the air with eager enthusiasm.

"I thought so," the captain chuckled, ruffling Kurt's hair before scuffing his eldest boy on the shoulder - and Maria watched the boys glow with pride at being given the chance to take part in their father's challenge. It was an endearing sight - and her heart swelled when her employer gave a jut of his chin toward the grass, silently permitting his sons to go and join their fellow cadet. With delighted grins they darted towards their dishevelled uncle.

"Girls?" The captain quipped, turning to his daughters with a raised brow, winning him a few giggles from the younger ones and a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head from Louisa.

He shrugged, "suit yourselves! Fraulein?"

Maria had been so busy drinking in the heartwarming scene that it took her a good few seconds to realise it was her that he was addressing.

"Me?" She spluttered, taken aback by the request.

His mouth curved into a small smirk.

"It's not quite climbing trees," he teased, "but I wager you'll do better than old Max here."

Glancing at the impresario, who happened to be bending over in a particularly unflattering stretch at that exact moment, Maria couldn't quite bring herself to disagree. Still, even as she consider what fun the drill might be, an image of Sister Bertha's scandalised face flitted through her mind and she immediately thought better of the idea. Postulants simply didn't take part in military drills - at least not without being forced to kiss the floor a few hundred times afterwards.

"I think we'll settle for being spectators, captain."

Much to Maria's relief, the captain's daughters nodded in agreement and their father didn't push the subject any further.

"Ha!" Herr Detweiler interjected from the grass, "I recall a time when Captain Von _Show-Off_ here would positively delight in attracting a gaggle of female spectators to port during some of our more vigorous drills. It'll be just like old times, ey Georg!"

"My my!" Elsa teased, flashing the captain a loquacious smile from her chair, "and just _what_ would you do to attract these gaggles, hmm Georg?"

Maria watched with some amusement as the captain opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like a goldfish, rubbing sheepishly behind his ear before the impresario decided to answer for him.

"Well _naturally_ , Elsa darling, he'd take off his-"

"Cadet!" The captain barked sharply, his ears turning pink, "jumping jacks, now!"

With a reluctant groan, Uncle Max obeyed, imitated almost instantly by the two eager nephews who stood on either side of him. The captain gave a satisfied nod to no one in particular and then scooped a delighted Gretl up into his arms, resting her on his hip and carrying her down the steps onto the grass to supervise the unruly cadets. The rest of the girls and their fraulein followed, settling onto the lawn to watch the show unfold. The baroness, clearly unaccustomed to allowing her clothes anywhere near grass, remained on the veranda, watching from afar with her cigarette for company.

"Do you think they've had enough yet darling?" Maria heard the captain ask of his youngest daughter, whose chubby arm hung around his neck as they watched her uncle and brothers work up a sweat. The little girl nodded, giggling happily at her siblings' expense.

"Well then," the captain said with finality, and he held his whistle up for his daughter to blow sharply, which she did with surprising vigour. Immediately the cadets stilled in relief, taking a moment to catch their breath.

"What next?" The captain asked Gretl conspiratorially, his daughter delighting in the special attention he was bestowing upon her. When the girl faltered in coming up with an activity however, the captain leant in further and whispered an answer in her little ear.

"Burpees!" The girl roared suddenly, and Maria couldn't help but grin at the sight of her little face marred with an authoritative scowl to rival her father's. What a 'burpee' was however, she was yet to find out - and from the perplexed looks on her charges faces it appeared they too had no idea what the command meant.

Laughing heartily then, the captain put his youngest daughter down and turned back to his victims with a click of his heels as Gretl rejoined her sisters and governess.

"You heard your commander!" The captain ordered, "burpees until I tell you to stop!"

" _Anything_ but burpees, Georg!" the impresario whined, but he was instantly silenced again by the sting of the captain's whistle. Immediately - though somewhat reluctantly - he set to work, his nephews copying the bizarre sequence as their uncle fell to the floor in a push-up before tucking his knees to his chest and launching himself into a jumping jack in the air, repeating the whole move again and again. It was explosive and demanding, and the captain timed them mercilessly with his watch, his fingers twitching agitatedly at his side, until the whistle's call brought the motion to an instant halt.

And so the routine continued under the blistering heat of the afternoon, forty second intervals followed by twenty fleeting seconds of rest marked by sharp blasts of the captain's piercing whistle. Gruelling combinations of sprints, push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, burpees, high-knees and various other moves Maria had never seen before left the boys and their uncle sweating profusely and gasping for breath. Despite their commotion however, it was the captain who held her full attention.

Tall, regal, alert - with shoulders squared, jaw tight and eyes sharp, it was obvious to anyone who watched him that he was entirely in his element. A fine and brave man, the reverend mother had once said about him - and while this comical challenge with Herr Detweiler was nought but a game, the old woman's words still rang true in the way the captain held himself, his role as leader leaving him glowing with a newfound energy. Admittedly, it was perhaps the first time that Maria fully comprehended just how much this stoic man had once loved his career and his country's navy. If she'd thought that he'd go easy on his sons however, she'd clearly thought wrong - for the poor boys were turning red as tomatoes in their attempts to impress their father.

"Captain.." she approached her employer cautiously as he watched his crew like a hawk, engaged in their fourth round of press-ups.

"Hmm?" He answered distractedly, checking his watch for timing.

"Perhaps the boys should-"

"Kurt!" The captain cut her off, "ten seconds left son, you can do it! You're both doing _spectacularly_."

"Captain.. " she tried again.

"Yes fraulein?"

"Perhaps the boys should stop now," she insisted, "It's awfully hot and they're only young after all-"

She was interrupted again by his blasted whistle, and the exhausted cadets collapsed against the grass for their welcomed twenty seconds of rest.

"She's right Georg," Herr Detweiler wheezed helplessly from the grass, gasping for air, "we've done enough."

"It's been fifteen minutes Max," the captain rolled his eyes mercilessly.

"You simply _cannot_ be serious," the children's uncle spluttered with incredulous horror.

Silently, the captain shot his cuff and extended his arm, holding his wristwatch up to Maria's face while she bit on the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing.

"How long has it been since we started this _circus_ Fraulein?"

Maria tried desperately to focus on the hands of his watch rather than the sudden and overwhelming sight of dark skin and hair against the white of his shirt sleeve.

"Ahh.. " she blinked, trying to concentrate, "fifteen minutes I'm afraid Herr Detweiler," her confirmation was uttered on a rather shaky breath.

"Precisely," the captain retorted with a triumphant smirk, "boys," he turned to his sons with an air of fatherly pride, "you'd both make fine military men, I really am very much impressed. But your fraulein is right, why don't you take a break? Have some more lemonade."

Maria didn't miss the relief on the boys' faces. While they'd started the challenge with overwhelming enthusiasm, they'd eventually grown tired and without protest they joined their sisters to watch the remainder of the drill from the comfort of the spectators' circle.

"If they're stopping, I'm stopping!" came Herr Detweiler's petulant remark from his sprawled position on the grass.

"Then you lose the wager, my friend," the captain gave a non-committal shrug, looming over him, "our drills used to last at least thirty minutes."

"The wager was unfair to begin with," the impresario argued, "you tricked me into thinking you'd also be taking part."

"I never said those words."

"Semantics!" Uncle Max insisted, picking himself up from the grass and dusting his tiny shorts off, his chest still heaving where his t-shirt clung to him.

"Uh oh," Friedrich whispered to his fraulein conspiratorially as they watched from a few feet away, "looks like a mutiny!"

"It's easy enough blowing a whistle and barking orders in your finely pressed suit," uncle Max protested sulkily, "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is!"

"I don't need to," the captain replied sourly, "I've got a _whistle_ where my mouth is," and he held up the instrument smugly as if that ended the conversation.

"Ha!" His friend scoffed, clearly unimpressed, "The man I knew would've been the last one standing on that godforsaken dock!"

"I'm not in my twenties anymore, Max," the captain gritted.

"Neither am I and yet I'm doing far better than you are! At least I'm taking part."

" _Let it go_ , cadet."

"Don't _cadet_ me, you old-"

"I'll do far worse than cadet you in a minute, _cadet_!"

Maria watched the heated exchange with a mirthful roll of her eyes. The two men were no better than a couple of bickering school boys! It was a wonder they'd ever become acquaintances in the first place, let alone the best of friends.

"Look Georg, I know my Herculean physique might be intimidating to a mere mortal like you but that's really no reason to refuse to take part," the impresario teased with a wicked grin and Maria joined the children in their giggles then as Herr Detweiler gestured proudly to his spindly legs and slightly protruding gut. Even the baroness, who'd appeared rather bored up until now, joined in on the taunting as the children began pleading with their father to acquiesce.

"You see Georg?" Uncle Max smirked triumphantly, gesturing to their devoted audience with his hand, "everyone else thinks you should take part! Life is not a spectator's sport, my friend!"

When the captain turned to look uncertainly at his children's hopeful faces, Maria knew it was the closest the man would ever come to giving in. But she also knew it was a battle her charges would undoubtedly lose, for her employer's fierce pride would stop him from doing anything that he deemed too undignif-

" _Fine_!" The captain suddenly conceded, much to Maria's horror - and the laughter instantly died in her throat, robbing her of breath, as the master of the house wasted no time in shrugging impatiently out of his jacket before reaching for his tie in evident determination.

"You want a challenge?" He growled at a gleeful Herr Detweiler as the children gave a hearty cheer and Maria fought to salvage her composure, "Let the games begin!"

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 **A/N: I'm having lots of fun at poor Maria's (and uncle Max's) expense! As always I love to hear your thoughts.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This was lots of fun! I hope you enjoy!**

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 _"Fine!" The captain suddenly conceded, much to Maria's horror - and the laughter instantly died in her throat, robbing her of breath, as the master of the house wasted no time in shrugging impatiently out of his jacket before reaching for his tie in evident determination._

 _"You want a challenge?" He growled at a gleeful Herr Detweiler as the children gave a hearty cheer and Maria fought to salvage her composure, "Let the games begin!"_

Before Maria could even make sense of what was happening, the captain was ripping at the knot of his tie and tearing it from his collar in one swift motion. Her eyes snapped shut in panic before the garment had even hit the grass - and yet the forbidden mental image of what might come next danced vividly on the inside of her mutinous eyelids.

Of course, she didn't dare ask herself precisely _why_ she was so mortified by the prospect of an informally-attired captain. The man had barely shed his jacket and here she was, a mass of conflicting and confusing emotions. Herr Detweiler was wearing little more than undergarments for goodness sake and yet her pulse didn't race at the mere sight of him. The blush didn't creep into her cheeks and nor did her blood turn hot with embarrassment. If anything she found the impresario's appearance _comical_. The captain's current state however, left very little room for laughter.

 _Please God, just let it end at the tie_ , she implored silently _, I beg of you to let it end at the tie!_

When she dared to check whether her prayers had been answered however, it was to discover the sight of her employer's long fingers tackling the buttons at his throat.

 _Oh for goodness sake!_

Freeing the skin there in a matter of seconds, the captain made short work of the rest of his shirt, much to Maria's continued dismay. If someone had told her back at the abbey that she'd one day be witnessing Austria's greatest naval hero stripping out of his suit on a hot summer's day, she would've eaten the dress the poor didn't want. In fact, she'd been rather inclined to believe he was permanently sewn into the blasted thing. And it seemed she wasn't the only one to notice the bizarre turn of events. The baroness, who'd previously been inspecting her nails with obvious disinterest, suddenly appeared thoroughly _enraptured_ by the afternoon's activities.

"One handed push ups to start with!" the captain snarled at his opponent as he tore the shirt from his body and scrunched it up in his fist before throwing it to the ground with little ceremony. Much to Maria's utter relief, his torso wasn't left bare as she'd first feared, but was instead covered by a thin cotton vest. In truth however, the undergarment still did very little to calm her tattered nerves, or her apparently wild imagination.

Her infamous curiosity getting the better of her, she allowed herself the small transgression of studying him from afar, even while her conscious reminded her she'd be doing Hail Mary's at the foot of her bed until morning came. Surely there was no harm in looking though, she reasoned with herself - after all, God's masterpieces were put on this earth to be admired, were they not? And admire she did.

Broad shoulders flexed subtly under the rays of the sun, dark skin shifting against the white cotton he wore. A course smattering of hair on the planes of his chest escaped in places the fabric forgot, turning her throat dry. Slimmer than one might expect of a retired sea captain, his waist tapered down to where vest disappeared beneath belt - but mercifully for Maria's sanity, the trousers stayed firmly in place. Was this what the male form was supposed to look like, she wondered with burning curiosity - or was the Lord simply testing her tattered resolve?

She didn't have time to contemplate the question however, for a mark on his shoulder blade caught her eye suddenly as the fabric shifted with his movements - and she realised, with some surprise, that it was a small tattoo - no doubt from his days as an unruly cadet. Herr Detweiler joked often enough about the captain's reckless youth - and yet he was the last person on earth Maria would've envisaged doing something so impulsive and spontaneous as permanently marking his skin. She was quickly beginning to realise that there was far more to her mysterious employer than first met the eye - and she found herself longing to hear the tale behind that curious marking.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in thoughts of a young and adventurous captain von Trapp, another far more shocking sight hit her like a blow to the stomach. Twisted scar tissue marred a portion of his upper arm on the left side, the patterns of skin feathering their way down to his smooth forearm, telling their own secret story of pain and suffering, of unspeakable horrors. It was a jarring discovery, one that robbed her of breath - and she felt the violent and entirely unexpected tug of tears in her throat at the thought of the agony he must've suffered.

"From the war," Liesl whispered knowingly in her ear when she mistook her fraulein's stricken gaze for innocent curiosity, "mother told me once that one of his men was caught under debris after their base came under fire. Father tried to free him but the flames got there first. He rarely speaks of it."

Maria could only nod mutely, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she'd naively convinced herself that the mighty captain Georg von Trapp was simply _invincible_. Perhaps it was because of the pride and confidence with which he always carried himself, or maybe it was the many tales of bravery she'd heard about him from the children. In any event, the fact that he was a man as vulnerable as any other ought not to have shocked her. But as it was, the evidence of his past horrors filled her with inexplicable distress.

He'd suffered a broken heart, that much was obvious. But a man like him - a leader, a protector, a hero - as he'd so often been described to her - simply _couldn't_ be harmed, could he? Yet the proof was plain for her to see: he was made of flesh and bone and sorrow and pain just like any other man - and her heart truly went out to him in those few moments. He'd experienced so much tragedy in his life and yet he locked it all away behind a mask of humility and supposed indifference. His scar however, he could no longer hide - raw and exposed as it was under the afternoon sun. And yet she couldn't deny he was still magnificent - perhaps even more so now, without his infamous armour to shield him.

" _One handed_ , Georg?" The baroness simpered suddenly from her advantageous viewpoint above them, leaning so far forward in her seat she looked as though she might topple down the stairs, "I really am very much impressed!"

It was impossible for Maria not to roll her eyes when the captain stood up a little straighter at the compliment. As if the man needed his ego inflating any further! It suddenly occurred to her that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, strutting around half naked along the lawn like some kind of Greek-

" _God_ awful things, one handed press ups!" Herr Detweiler grimaced, but the captain apparently wasn't listening, his cool gaze instead locking with Maria's, taking her completely by surprise. She sucked in a breath then, and felt the blush immediately creep into her face when she realised he'd caught her eye-roll.

The scoundrel smirked as though he could read her every thought.

"Is something.. _amiss_ , fraulein?"

 _Keep your eyes on his face_ , Maria chastised herself desperately, _if you have even the slightest hope of becoming a nun, you will keep your eyes on his face!_

"I... I was.." she floundered as all eyes landed expectantly on her.

"Yes?" He drawled, raising an amused eyebrow in apparent challenge.

"I was just thinking-" she cast around desperately for some inspiration before her eyes found his crumpled dress shirt laying forgotten on the grass, "- that Frau Schmidt will surely have a _fit_ when she sees the state of your shirt, captain."

Clearly perplexed by her bizarre answer, the captain followed her pointing finger mutely while she tried her hardest not to notice the way the understated muscles across his shoulders contracted as he moved.

"My _shirt_?" He asked incredulously, his male pride clearly taking a knock. As satisfying as it was to wipe the smirk from his face though, she rather wished she could stuff the words back in her mouth. Commenting on the state of the master's stripped clothing was surely a rather intimate task, one reserved for the lady of the house. If he thought her comment brazen though, he didn't say anything, instead turning back to her with a playful roll of the eyes.

"I'll be sure to iron it myself," the ' _dear_ ' seemed to hang unspoken in the air at the end of his sentence, as though they were having some sort of lover's tiff over the household chores. To Maria though, it felt as though he'd shouted the omitted word, so intimate was the resulting gaze they shared.

"Friedrich!" Uncle Max broke the spell impatiently, retrieving the captain's whistle and thrusting it at his nephew, "you can lead the drill and your absolutely delightful brothers and sisters can be the judges. And just remember," he turned to the children and lifted a warning finger in mock severity, "it was _I_ who commandeered the puppet show for you all."

"Yes, and sent the blasted bill straight to _me_!" the captain gritted beside him, his forearms tightening as he absentmindedly clenched his fists. Maria swallowed hard.

"Naturally!"

* * *

Georg had to admit that Max was fitter than he'd initially given the man credit for. A gruelling twenty five minutes of strenuous activity had passed since Friedrich's first whistle had blown and yet the impresario was no closer to giving up than Georg was. The heat of the sun was taxing - his cotton vest clinging to his body with sweat and his usually immaculate hair falling forward onto his forehead. He must've looked a state, he knew - Elsa would surely be appalled by his disheveled appearance. And yet it wasn't _Elsa_ he found himself glancing at to see whether he'd garnered her attention..

By the time Friedrich's final whistle blew, he was becoming rather exhausted - though he'd never admit it to his opponent or anyone else in their devoted audience. When Frau Schmidt eventually bustled out onto the veranda with a large bucket of chipped ice for them all, he had to admit he was beyond relieved.

"Had enough old man?" Max provoked, breathing hard as they joined the children momentarily on the terrace and grabbed some ice for their foreheads.

"Enough of your shocking _trash talk_ , if that's what you mean," Georg retorted, his voice dripping with derision.

"We still don't know how to decide who wins," Brigitta revealed to them both as her siblings nodded in agreement, each digging into the bucket of ice for relief, "neither one of you has faltered yet."

"Sudden death!" Louisa roared suddenly, much to Georg's amusement.

"A tad dramatic.." Friedrich sneered, but Louisa only rolled her eyes.

"I _meant_ a sudden death round," the girl explained, "They could both do the plank until the first man falls. The one who holds it the longest wins."

There was a generally titter of agreement amongst the group and the two men shrugged their acquiescence.

"The plank it is," Max conceded as they abandoned their ice and moved back to the grass, adopting their positions on elbow and knee while waiting for Friedrich's command. When the whistle pierced the air, both men took the horizontal plank position, holding themselves rigid as boards while the children cheered them on with whoops of excitement. Before long however, it became obvious that neither man was close to failing - and so the cheers of encouragement eventually ebbed away as the gruelling minutes ticked by and the children grew bored.

All too aware of his audience's scrutiny, Georg absolutely refused to concede defeat - even as the sweat dripped from his brow and his every muscle burned with fatigue. Max was doing well, he admitted, though his opponent's arms were trembling and the discomfort was evident on his face. His curiosity getting the better of him, Georg wondered momentarily whether his governess was still watching their pissing contest, and he chanced a subtle glance in her direction - only to abruptly wish he hadn't.

The fraulein was watching alright - but at some point since the plank began she must've commandeered herself a piece of ice from the bucket, for she was running the melting cube all over her neck and collarbone with dainty fingers. Her head was tilted back just so, her lips parted slightly in relief, her skin glistening with remnants of cool water - and a single droplet rolled down her décolletage before disappearing under her dress. The effect on his mind and body was as instantaneous as it was shocking. His mouth went slack, the remaining breath escaped his lungs - but worst of all was the undeniable and potent surge of blood that rapidly rushed south.

 _Oh Christ._

Absolutely terrified of anyone noticing his suddenly _extremely_ conspicuous predicament and losing his dignity entirely, he dropped flat to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Friedrich's whistle pierced the air with deafening finality a millisecond later, though all he could really hear was the blood pounding in his ears.

"I _won_?!" Max exclaimed incredulously, scrambling to his feet as the whistle confirmed his victory, "I don't believe it! I won!"

The impresario launched to his feet and proceeded to dance with triumphant victory, the children encircling their uncle to congratulate him. Georg knew he'd be subjected to Max's gloating for months to come, but it was a small price to pay if it meant his friend and their audience remained oblivious to his body's traitorous reaction. He didn't dare think of the consequences if he were to be discovered! And so there he lay, flat on his stomach on the grass, in the hopes that his body would relent and that Max's celebrations would serve as enough of a distraction so that nobody would notice his distress. But it seemed that fate had other ideas...

"No hard feelings, ey Georg!" Max boasted, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye and extending his hand for his friend to take, "here, let Austria's newest champion help you up!"

Almost instantly, panic bloomed in Georg's chest. He could still feel the constriction of his trouser fabric far too markedly to be out of the wood's just yet.

"I uh.. I think I'm just going to rest here for a few minutes," he retorted casually.

The impresario rolled his eyes with obvious impatience, extending the proffered hand further.

"Come now Georg, no one likes a sore loser."

"No really I uh.. " the captain scrambled around desperately for a legitimate excuse, "you really tired me out, old man. I just need a moment, that's all."

A confused frown marred Max's face as he scrutinised his friend from his place above him. Georg knew his alibi was a feeble one at best - his position on the grass was no more comfortable than lying on a bed of nails, given his body's current state. And he knew he was doing a poor job of hiding it too, holding himself so rigidly that he looked anything but relaxed. And much to his horror, his traitorous mind chose that exact moment to dredge up the ice cube memory once again, an almost inaudible whimper escaping him as his body responded in kind.

The impresario's gaze found the unsuspecting fraulein then, and Georg watched as his expression immediately shifted from confusion to dawning comprehension.

" _Oh_!" the impresario's eyes widened with obvious glee as he whipped back around to face Georg.

" _Max_.." Georg pleaded, feeling his face burn.

"Oh hohoho, you _haven't_!"

"Max, _don't_ -"

"Oh this is just too good to be _true_!"

"I don't know what you're-"

"You absolute _rake_!"

"It's not what you-"

"Is it the ice that's done it or the lovely little thing it's attached to?"

"Max!" Georg hissed, knowing full well his children and their governess were within earshot - but the impresario simply ignored his evident distress.

"I must say Georg, I thought those days were behind you," he gawped, "And a nun to boot!"

"Keep your voice _down_ will you! And she's not yet a-"

"And she certainly never will be if _you_ have anything to do with it!"

"Georg darling," it was Elsa's untimely interruption that had both men's heads snapping to attention, only to realise they'd garnered the curiosity of everybody else in the vicinity, "are you alright?"

"Yes yes! I'm perfectly fine," Georg lied cheerfully, "just catching my breath!"

"Well you'll surely get filthy laying on the grass like that," Elsa chastised, wrinkling her nose in distaste, much to Max's wicked delight.

"Ha!" The impresario rounded on Georg, eyes flashing with triumph, " _Filthy_ is certainly one way of putting it!"

"Are you injured, father?" Kurt enquired with concern, moving closer.

"No no, I'm perfectly well, thank you Kurt."

"He's just feeling a little _stiff_ , that's all," Max chirped devilishly as Georg glared daggers at him.

"Is it cramp, captain?" The little fraulein interjected, neck still glistening where the ice cube had left its trail, "Perhaps if you rub it.."

Georg gritted his teeth as a barricade of stimulating images flitted through his mind.

"Oh hohoho! I don't doubt he will do later Fraulein, when he gets a moment to himself!" Max guffawed with fiendish joy, tears of laughter pooling in his eyes as Georg begged for the ground to simply swallow him up.

"You _do_ look awfully flushed father," Leisl fussed, "perhaps I should get you some of the ice?"

"Ah yes, that'll do the trick, ey Georg!" Max exclaimed mercilessly, "Best bring the entire bucket Leisl, just to be safe!"

"Max, I _swear_ to God.."

"I'm not so sure God will be on your side at the present time, my friend," the impresario hissed mischievously, "but don't be too uh.. _hard_ on yourself, will you!"

While Georg wasn't a particularly religious man and was equally loathe to give Max Detweiler so much as an inch, he had to admit the impresario was most definitely right about one thing. When his day of judgment finally came, Captain Georg von Trapp - war hero and commander of the Austro-Hungarian imperial navy, devoted father of seven and employer to one untameable governess - would _surely_ be going to straight to hell.

* * *

 **A/N: hehe, isn't the captain just delicious?**


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a very long time - since before he was married, in fact - that Georg von Trapp had so blatantly lost control of his body's urges. As a teen, he'd been caught in an embarrassing predicament once or twice, just like any other lad who'd had to face the awkward transition between boyhood and manhood. But that was to be expected at such an age. The fact that he was further into his forties now than he cared to admit, and a father of seven children - products of a very fulfilling marriage, no less - surely should've meant that he had outgrown such behaviour. But there was no denying the insistent and increasingly impatient reminder of his youth wedged uncomfortably between the grass and his stomach.

In an act of sheer desperation, he cast about for a less erotic topic to concentrate on, in order to force his body into submission. Festering wounds, flesh eating insects, fatal diseases, Max's minuscule shorts - but it was no use. Nothing worked! His long dormant hormones had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance and had no intention of going anywhere. At least not while the vivacious little fraulein and her cube of ice were close by.

It was extremely unsettling - having to admit to himself that a young woman destined for God had a far more devastating impact on his state of mind than the woman he intended to marry. Elsa was everything he could ever have expected from a perfect wife, including the obvious fact that she was clearly very desirable. And yet, for all her attempts at flirting with him, not once had she inspired the kind of reaction that the fraulein and her rogue piece of ice had. He'd be lying to himself if he said it was the first time it'd happened too. There had been other times - subtle glances and accidental touches that had played on his mind later in the privacy of his master suite, twisting themselves into vivid fantasies that left him feeling raw and frustrated.

What was it about the girl that'd hit him so hard? She wasn't exactly an obvious beauty - at least not in the same way that Elsa was with all her false airs and graces - and yet there were times he found himself completely unable to look away from her. She seemed to breathe light and warmth into everything she did, drawing him out of his petulant moods and dark reveries whenever he found himself brooding a little too long. She approached life with an enthusiasm he envied, with a vivacity he craved. And perhaps most importantly, she did it all with a refreshing frankness and guileless innocence that did little to disguise the mischief that he sometimes caught dancing behind her lashes.

It was perhaps this little hint of mischief that he just couldn't quite shake from his thoughts. As astonishing a discovery as it had been, he'd come to realise somewhere along the way that the fraulein knew exactly how to challenge him, exactly how to tease him, exactly how to provoke him - until the insubordinations that had once left him seething with rage now only left him feeling undeniably stimulated. In truth, she was refreshing. It had gotten to the point where he often found himself seeking her out simply for the pleasure of bickering with her, for the satisfaction of watching the delectable blush colouring her cheeks whenever he decided to taunt her.

No - she wasn't quite an elegant or sophisticated beauty, he mused, but she was certainly a remarkable one.

"Baroness shraeder?" It was the haughty butler who interrupted Georg's inner turmoil, sloping out onto the veranda in search of Elsa, "telegram for you, ma'am."

"Oh, thank you Franz."

 _Franz! Of course!_ Georg mentally kicked himself, _that would do the trick perfectly!_

Sure enough, he felt his body instantly softening at the thought of the butler and his sour face. Georg could've kissed the man for turning up at just the right time to thoroughly quash all inappropriate thought. And by some stroke of luck, Elsa had also excused herself after opening her telegram, presumably to go and place a phone call to one of her lady friends back in Vienna. Nearly laughing out loud in sheer relief, he resisted the urge to shout a triumphant expletive to the sky. _Somehow_ , he was in the clear. _Somehow_ , he'd managed to dodge a particularly catastrophic bul-

"Captain?"

 _Oh no._

The little fraulein had approached without him noticing - and before he had time to even catch his breath, her porcelain ankles were invading his vision beside his face at ground level. All thoughts of Franz immediately flew from his brain, replaced instead by vivid images of those delicate ankles fused firmly around his waist. He squeezed his eyes tight shut as his body betrayed him once again.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" She asked firmly, and though his eyes were closed he could still picture her behind his eyelids, standing over him with hands on hips, looking down as though at a sulking child.

"For the last time, I am not injured!" He protested, his eyes flying open and fixing her with his best scowl - all the while trying to ignore the unforgivable realisation that a subtle shift to the left would give him a magnificent view up her dress.

"It's no use fibbing, captain. I can tell you're in some discomfort," she chastised impatiently, "You forget I was once a nurse at the orphanage too. I used to deal with all manner of ailments! Cuts and scrapes, aches and pains.."

"And _swellings_ , fraulein?" Max enquired, would-be innocently, clearly delighting in the deathly stare he received from his host.

"Oh yes, the occasional swelling too, Herr Detweiler," the fraulein nodded proudly, evidently clueless to the double meaning behind his words, "I can assure you, I've seen it all."

"Is that so?" the impresario replied exaggeratedly, placing an index finger to his mouth in mock contemplation, "Did you hear that Georg?" He chirped, "She's seen it all! Perhaps you should show her _exactly_ where it aches."

"That won't be necessary, thank you!"

"Don't worry captain," Fraulein Maria interjected, "I'll be gentle."

 _Oh God, please don't be_ , his filthy mind begged silently. But instead he conjured up the most terrifying tone he could muster under the humiliating circumstances and barked:

"Fraulein! I order you to stop _this instance_ if you want to keep your job!"

"And your _virginity_ ," he heard Max mumble under his breath, the words disguised rather impressively by a cough that left the fraulein none the wiser.

Georg fought the urge to leap to his feet and throttle the man. If it weren't for the evidence of his sordid thoughts pressing firmly into the grass, he probably wouldn't have hesitated.

" _Really_ captain," the governess rolled her eyes, "you're behaving no better than a school boy!"

"Ohho, no one would disagree with you there fraulein!" Max chortled gleefully, "You deserve nothing less than the _naughty step_ , Georg!"

"Let me see," the fraulein fussed, dropping to her haunches and prodding clinically at one of his calves as though he was one of her charges. Despite himself, he rather resented the notion - whenever he'd envisaged her hands on him it certainly hadn't been under the pretence of looking for injury.

"Where are the children?" He managed to croak. Somewhere along the way, it'd become an unspoken habit between the two of them - summoning the safety net of his brood whenever the air grew too thick with tension. He'd noticed it a few times, the way they'd both drop the children into conversation to prevent their ship sailing into uncharted waters. And now was certainly no exception.

"I sent them inside to clean up. Now, is it your leg?" She enquired as the heady aroma of lavender and rose water invaded his senses. He squirmed in a panic as her finger inched fractionally higher, attempting to slap her hand away, but much to his chagrin she merely slapped back with an impatient huff.

"Your hips?" she pressed on, though she apparently knew better about the rules of propriety than to touch him there, "they become brittle with old age you know."

Upon hearing the fraulein's words, Max immediately erupted into cackles of almost maniacal laughter. Georg was more than just a little offended.

"I _beg_ your pardon!" He spluttered, "You think me ol-?"

"Your ribs?" She interrupted him, her explorative hand ghosting at the side of his torso. The contact was light as a feather - in fact, she might not have even been touching him at all. And yet he felt her proximity as intensely as if they were lying skin to skin. He sucked in a breath and glanced heavenward in his desperation. Would this torture ever end? He had half a mind to just give in to the whole thing and tell her it was his upper thighs, his chest, his backside, his groin, his _whole damn body_ that ached and burned for the relief of her soothing fingers. But instead he said:

"Alright fraulein, _alright_! You want the truth?"

She stopped her exploration and regarded him quizzically then, waiting patiently for an explanation - and his brain fought hard to find a lie believable enough to get him out of his utterly ridiculous predicament. But before he could come up with anything remotely noteworthy, the infamously meddlesome and wickedly mischievous Max Detweiler apparently decided to answer for him.

"The _truth_ , fraulein," the impresario stated with heart-stopping seriousness, placing a somber hand on the girl's shoulder, "is that Georg here suffers from a... a _weak bladder_."

 _Wait.. what?!_

"And all that lemonade and then _jumping around_ , you know - ," Max gestured with his hand and shot the fraulein a pointed look, wrinkling his nose, "- well let's just say he's in a bit of pickle now, as it were."

The fraulein's eyes widened and her pink mouth formed a perfect O as comprehension dawned.

"MAX!" Georg bellowed, completely stricken, "That's the biggest load of sh-"

"It happens from time to time," the impresario informed the fraulein, eyeing Georg with something like pity, "but don't be embarrassed my friend, we're here to help!"

"Say no more Her Detweiler.. captain," the governess gushed sympathetically, "it happens to Kurt sometimes too when he's nervous! Perhaps it's hereditary?"

"For Christ sake!" Georg implored, "I haven't-"

"You see Georg?" Max reassured, the fiendish delight in his eyes quite evident, "it happens to the best of us!"

Absolutely lost for words, Georg could do little else than splutter hopelessly with dismay, his mouth opening and closing in repetition as he fought for composure. He was rarely the type to be left tongue tied from mortification and yet, much to his horror, he could feel his face turning beetroot.

"Not to worry!" The fraulein declared on a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll go and get a towel!" And with that, she launched to her feet, scampering back towards the house and out of sight, as though on a mission set by the emperor himself.

A painfully thick silence hung in the air upon her departure, and Max turned to his victim with a face-splitting grin that could only be described as villainous.

"A weak bladder?!" Georg bellowed, " _really_?!"

"You're _welcome_!" the impresario stated smugly, looking far too much like the cat who'd caught the canary.

"Welcome?!" Georg spat, "you told the girl I'm incontinent for Christ sake!"

" _And_ managed to get her to leave!" Max insisted, though the fiendish grin remained.

"You couldn't think of anything else?!"

"Nothing quite so amusing," Max chortled with a shrug, before his eyes narrowed, "why do you care so much anyway?"

Georg shot him a furious glare.

"Well, between your fabrications and my apparently brittle hips it's a wonder she doesn't think I'm on my deathbed! Now come on, help me up."

He extended a hand towards the impresario but the man only recoiled with a grimace.

"Is it uh... _safe_?" Max raised a sceptical eyebrow and inclined his head towards Georg's lower half.

Tipping his chin upward to shoot the man a withering look, Georg retorted, "funnily enough Max, you managed to kill it dead."

Chuckling darkly, Max grabbed his friend's proffered hand and wrenched him to his feet, clapping him affectionately on the shoulder for good measure.

"You know Georg, I've missed this," he grinned wistfully, gesturing between them.

Georg could only stare at him blankly.

"Max, I can't actually recall us ever having done _this_ before!"

"Noo, not this _specifically_ \- though I won't deny it has been most entertaining," the impresario winked, "I meant this. _Us_. The adventures we used to have. Chasing women. Fighting foes. Two young scallywags let loose on the open ocean."

Despite himself, Georg smiled. While he couldn't quite bring himself to refer to the last hour of his life as an _adventure_ , he did have to admit that he and Max had plenty of experience when it came to getting themselves into sticky situations there seemed no way out of. Many a night during their wilder youths at sea, they'd gone out looking for trouble, wreaking havoc in ports they'd most likely never see again, chasing fine liquor and finer women. Regardless of the fact that their lives had been on the line, it'd felt like a simpler time back then. With everything to gain and nothing to lose. Had he really lost sight of himself so much since losing the war and his wife that his closest friend thought their best days were behind them?

"You make it sound as though I'm no fun anymore, Max."

"Well.." the impresario hesitated, "a few months ago I would've said precisely that! But then the little fraulein came along and it's as though you're nineteen all over again!"

Georg knew the impresario wasn't talking so much about his raging hormones as he was about his recent change of heart. It was true that the fraulein had brought love and music back into the house. He was closer to his children more now than ever before and he only had the girl to thank. The thought of what it all meant however, was too unsettling to labour over - and so he chose to keep his retort brief.

"Well there's life in the old dog yet! And what is life if not an adventure, ey Maximilian?"

"Ahh yes, you're not wrong there my friend," the impresario replied with an air of uncharacteristic wisdom. At that precise moment, they spotted Fraulein Maria as she reappeared on the veranda, looking particularly pleased with herself and holding up a rather sorry-looking towel. Max regarded the girl thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Georg with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"In fact, I think the _best_ adventure is yet to come."

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N: I know I might disappoint some of you by ending the story here but this was only ever meant to be a little bit of fun. And as you can see it turned out to be quite ridiculous! I may do an epilogue if people want one? I hope you enjoyed it anyway.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: you wanted an epilogue, and an epilogue you shall get!**

* * *

" _Please_ tell me they're not about to perform another drill?" Georg asked, almost dreading the answer as he settled down under the shade of a tree next to Maria and watched the children line up on the grass with their shoulders back and spines straight. Their uncle Max was striding up and down the line carrying out a thorough inspection that Georg himself recognised all too well. The only thing missing from the familiar demonstration was his god forsaken whistle.

Grimacing with distaste, he noticed the impresario was adorned in the same ridiculous blue shorts he'd commandeered a few weeks ago, except this time - if it was possible - the garment had become even tighter. No doubt a result of all the schnitzel and fine desserts he'd been rewarding himself with since successfully fitting into his tuxedo the night of the party. That had been a miracle even the mother abbess couldn't have prayed for.

"Why? Do you feel like joining them?" Maria laughed, a lovely joyous laugh that had him reaching instinctively for one of her hands.

"Not a chance!" he scoffed petulantly, watching his own fingers caress his bride's with something akin to fascination.

"What?" She queried self-consciously after a few moments.

"Nothing," he reassured, still preoccupied by his pleasant task, toying with her dainty hand between his larger palms, "I just love being able to touch you, that's all."

The confession had been innocent enough, but he didn't miss the deep blush that coloured her cheeks, nor the way she averted her gaze in response to his words. In fact, he delighted in it. She was still so unaccustomed to his affections, flushing at his compliments and responding to his touch with an endearing shyness. It was a self-consciousness he'd only begun to recognise in her once she'd started falling in love with him. Before that, she'd always confronted him with an unabashed boldness and unapologetic frankness that many people would never have expected from a girl of her age and background.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly _when_ her reaction to his presence had begun to change during the course of the summer, but he knew for sure that it'd all come to a head during the exquisite dance they'd shared the night of the party. After that, he could do little to deny what he'd seen in her eyes, nor what he'd felt in response to it. Now however, her self-consciousness wasn't laced with heartache or confusion, but with curiosity and promise - and he took great pleasure in reassuring her of his feelings at every possible opportunity.

Maria took a deep breath to calm her thrumming heart, marvelling at the impact that such an innocent touch could have on her senses. A peaceful kind of serenity had befallen the villa since she'd accepted her captain's unexpected proposal. It had always been a particular rarity in her life that things ever went smoothly, but by some miracle everything seemed to have slotted almost perfectly into place. The man she loved not only loved her in return, but also wanted to marry her, to have her mother his children - and she couldn't quite believe her good fortune. She had found the life she was born to live, at last.

"Whatever will you do without your devoted charges for six whole weeks, my fraulein?" Georg teased. He didn't need to clarify _which_ six weeks he was referring to - their honeymoon was fast approaching and over the past few weeks they'd been able to focus their attention on little else. He for one, couldn't wait to finally have Maria all to himself. A house full of children, staff and chaperones - plus a seemingly endless amount of wedding planning - had made it difficult for he and his bride to experience any privacy whatsoever, and the lack of physical contact was beginning to take its toll on him. Ironically, it'd been far easier to get her alone back when she'd been a postulant!

"Oh I don't know," Maria replied with a nonchalant shrug, unaware of the direction his thoughts were taking, "grow terribly _bored_ I suppose!"

Georg's mouth fell open in apparent offence and she laughed heartily again, nudging him playfully on the arm.

"I'm _teasing_ you, my captain!"

He allowed her the small victory of having played him, but chose to voice his protest all the same.

" _Bored_ indeed," he grumbled petulantly, though his eyes betrayed his good humour, "I will personally see to it that not _one minute_ of our honeymoon is spent in boredom, my darling. Just you wait and see - even the train journey will be a marvel, what with the carriage I've booked for us!"

Amusement sparkled in her eyes, but then he noticed her expression shifting slightly.

"Speaking of the train, Georg..." she hesitated, and it suddenly became apparent she was unable to look him in the eye, "have you packed any extra uh..." she trailed off hopelessly, gesturing awkwardly with her hand.

"Any extra what?"

Her cheeks glowed with embarrassment and she leant closer, looking around for eavesdroppers before whispering conspiratorially, "any extra _undergarments_?"

He stared at her blankly.

"Whatever for?"

She took a deep breath, clearly mortified, "Well, you know - because of your little _problem_... it's an awfully long journey.."

Entirely perplexed, Georg's forehead creased in confusion. What on God's green earth was she talking about - his little problem? But then the memory of Max's elaborate fabrication on that fateful afternoon came screaming back to him. Entirely unable to help it, he simply burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" his bride protested.

"Oh Maria darling I'm afraid I have a confession to make," he chortled, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye, "I don't suffer from a weak bladder. Max - the scoundrel - he made the whole thing up."

At her inquisitive raise of the eyebrow, he attempted to explain, only to find himself uncharacteristically tongue tied.

"I uh.. well, to tell you the truth," he fumbled, "I was lying on the grass that day because I was, um.. Well, I was trying to hide the fact that I was.. I was..."

He rubbed the back of his ear awkwardly and glanced towards his brood simply to buy more time.

"That you were _aroused_?" She stated bluntly, innocent eyes blown wide.

He nearly began choking on a breath but managed to recover just in time, though he did little to hide his shock.

"How did you-" he managed to splutter.

"Well, I'm not a _complete_ innocent," she gave him the hint of a mischievous smile, her fiery blue eyes regarding him from under thick lashes. It was a look he was only just becoming accustomed to receiving from her, but one he knew would always bring him to his knees.

He swallowed hard.

"Do you mean to tell me you _knew_..." He choked, "The whole time?!"

The thought of his governess knowing exactly what had been tormenting him that day sent an unwanted shiver down his spine.

She giggled at his obvious embarrassment.

"Well no, not the _whole_ time," she confessed, "It wasn't until quite a bit later - after we got engaged actually - that I realised what might've been going on that day. I've been doing a bit of reading you see, and at some point I managed to connect the dots."

 _Reading? What exactly had she been reading_ , Georg wondered. He asked her as much with a raise of his eyebrow, since words were apparently failing him.

"The library," she clarified with a slight blush, "I found one or two volumes that have been somewhat _enlightening_..."

An entirely different kind of shiver danced down Georg's spine at the thought of his fiancé, restless and stimulated, hidden away in a dark corner of the library, hungrily searching for materials that would teach her a thing or two about the love that existed between men and women. Had she seen anything she liked, he wondered, his pulse quickening. Had her blood turned hot in response to the vivid descriptions she'd read on the page?

"So you know what happens then.. " he pressed distractedly, "when a man becomes.."

"Oh yes," she confirmed with courage, her throat working furiously,"though I knew that anyway, having grown up on a farm. It's the rest of it that fascinates me. The.. the _pleasure_ of it all. And how it all ends.."

 _Did she already know how it ended,_ he asked himself as he fought for breath. Had she dared to explore the physical responses by herself, alone in her bedroom? The possibility left him slack jawed for a moment and he was in serious danger of his body betraying him in a repeat performance. It was only then that he realised his bride had continued speaking for a good minute or so without him having registered a single word.

"..I can hardly blame you though Georg," Maria was telling him with a shrug, "I read that men sometimes can't control that kind of reaction. And she _did_ look lovely that afternoon."

"Who?" Georg asked stupidly, his brain still stuck on thoughts of his curious young bride exploring her body with nothing but stimulating books for company.

"The baroness."

He frowned.

"Which baroness?"

"Baroness _Shraeder_ , of course!" Maria rolled her eyes in exasperation, "she _did_ look particularly radiant that afternoon."

He simply blinked at her, nonplussed.

"Baroness Shraeder?" He retorted incredulously, struck dumb for a moment, "you think it was _Elsa_ who did that to me? It was _you_ , you little minx! _You_ and that blasted piece of ice!"

She looked utterly baffled, "Ice?"

"Yes! That cube of ice and.." he gestured wildly with his hand, as though he might be able to catch the appropriate words mid air, "and the heat.. and your... " his darkened eyes shifted unmistakably to her throat, "...all _glistening_... Thirty seconds of _that_ little display and I couldn't have picked Elsa out of a line up, for God's sake!"

Her cheeks grew darker than he'd ever seen them then, but so did her irises - and it occurred to him that, instead of being apprehensive about her future husband's desire, his virginal young bride might actually be aroused by it.

"I had no idea.." she murmured, though she held his gaze bravely, the atmosphere shifting dangerously between them for a moment. If only the children weren't a few feet away...

"Really?" He rasped, stroking a knuckle down her satin cheek, "you didn't feel any of it between us?"

"Oh I felt it," she confirmed on a whisper, nuzzling into his hand, "I just wouldn't let myself believe it."

Smiling affectionately, he brought his lips to her forehead, grazing along the porcelain skin there - and though the gesture was innocent in its simplicity, the intimacy behind his touch was so magnified after the conversation they'd just had, that she felt his lips everywhere.

"And now I'm to be a wife," she sighed against him, her voice trembling a little, " _your_ wife. And a mother! It's all so overwhelming.."

"In a good way I hope," he teased, pulling back from her with a grin.

"Oh yes," she agreed on a laugh, "though the wedding planning itself has been rather a chore. The place settings, the guest list, the flowers, the food," she rolled her eyes, "and don't get me started on cousin Bridget's choices for my trousseau!"

"Ah," Georg smirked, "let me guess. A lady reserves her modesty even in the marriage bed?"

Maria giggled, "something like that. But even then, the garments are all so complicated! Does one choose lace or silk, satin or chiffon?" She shook her head in apparent dismay, oblivious to the impact that her descriptions were having on her fiancé, "Then there's the endless battle with straps and clips, buckles and buttons.."

Despite his growing frustration - or perhaps _because_ of it - Georg gave a flippant wave of his hand.

"I tend to lose my patience with all those ridiculous contraptions. That's why they used to call me ' _Trapp the Ripper'_ in my hay day," he cackled darkly, only to wish he could stuff the words back into his mouth when he noticed his bride's perplexed gaze. This wasn't Max Detweiler he was speaking to, for God's sake, but his young convent sprung fiancé who was clearly _far_ too innocent to understand the sordid implications behind such a despicable nickname. Disgusted with himself, he tried rather unsuccessfully to mask his mirth with a sharp cough.

"What do you mean ' _ripper_ '?" She enquired with curiosity - and he fought hard to block out the mental image of her ruined garters strewn across the floor in their Parisian honeymoon suite.

"Well," he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully but smirking all the same, "let's just say it'll be _you_ who has to pack the extra undergarments, my darling."

"Oh, I don't know about that Georg," she retorted matter-of-factly.

"No?" He grinned smugly, "And why's that?"

"Because I wasn't planning on wearing any at all."

And with that, she rose to her feet, a triumphant smile pulling at her lips as she sauntered off in the direction of the children, leaving her speechless fiancé gaping after her.

* * *

 **A/N: This story was a lot of fun, I hope you all liked it as much as I liked writing it!**


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